


I Want to Tear You Apart

by notemoanymore



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drug Use, Gang Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notemoanymore/pseuds/notemoanymore
Summary: Frank Iero, "Pansy," is in a gang of tough teenage boys who sell drugs to vengeful students and terrorize the popular ones. Everyone is too afraid to say anything to them- including Gerard, a coffee-fueled poet who only wants to be as invisible as he's treated. But one strange day, Frank defends Gerard from his chaotic friends. Gerard's obsession begins there.
THIS FIC'S MOST OBVIOUS TRIGGERS:-rape (both implied and attempted) -drug use (as well drug deals. two most involved drugs are cocaine and heroin)  -mention of suicide attempts
Revenge Era Frank & Mikey, 2013 Gee, 2006 Bert





	1. Soaked in Bleach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: Come As You Are by Nirvana

"Mikey, let's go," Gerard said, motioning to his occupied brother. It was Friday, and Friday at the comic store meant D&D. 

Mikey looked up from his dungeon master's guide, giving Gerard a disappointed look as he moved his spectacles further up on his nose. "We just started this game, Gee," he whined. "Just one more game. Please?" The acne-ridden boys surrounding the dice and boards all looked to Gerard too. 

Gerard thought for a moment. "Mikey, we need to get home soon..." He almost added that there was a gang of teenage drug dealers that were often roaming the streets at this time, knuckles clad with brass. He decided against it. 

Mikey rolled his eyes, dropping the guide to the table. All the figures rattled due to the force, but Mikey didn't look back, just sulked past Gerard to the front door. Gerard rolled his eyes too, cursing himself immediately because he probably taught Mikey to roll his eyes when things weren't going his way. The older brother dropped a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "We'll stay longer next week," he promised. Mikey jerked his shoulder away with a sly smile. "Yeah yeah," he mumbled, pouty. Gerard lead the way, burrowing deeper into his scarf. His eyes were peeled for any sign of the boys he was so frightened of. 

Frank smiled lightly, just enough to make the cigarette locked between his lips move slightly. He inhaled, watching his friends push each other and roar like wild animals in the middle of the road. Frank was propped up on a telephone pole, the greenish light casting long-legged shadows of him on the road ahead. Ironic, he thought, my legs would never be that long. 

"Pansy?" Bert yelled. "Thinking too much again?" Bert laughed, his greasy hair pushed out of his face by his finger-less gloves.

Frank looked at the ground, the smile fading from his face quickly. "No," he murmured. 

"Huh?" Bert said, skipping slightly towards Frank, hand cupping his ear. "A little louder please!" He laughed again.

Frank stared at Bert through his eyelashes. He hated when Bert was high. He couldn't tell if it was heroin or coke this time. Either way, Bert was a jerk when he was high, and not that much different sober. 

Bert was still staring at Frank, hand cupped around his ear when he suddenly dropped his arm to his side. His eyes narrowed for a split second, then returned to their wild state. Frank's heart beat faster. 

Bert was nearing Frank, swinging his arms, grinding his teeth. "I said," he said quietly, voice low. "A little louder, please?" 

A moment of silence passed between them, Frank's eyes searching Bert for any signs of what the hell he was on. 

"Bert, leave him alone..." Ray, a giant equipped with quite the head of hair, said from the street. 

Frank was so grateful for him. He hadn't noticed how quiet everything had gotten until he heard voices coming from his right. Everyone's heads turned, looking for the source. Bert looked at Frank, a wide grin on his face. "Saved by the bell, eh?" he whispered. His hands collided with Frank's shoulders, making Frank flinch. Bert chuckled, then walked back into the street, treating Ray with a noogie. Exhaling deeply, two silhouettes caught Frank's eye. 

Gerard's breath hitched and he put a hand on Mikey's shoulder blade to walk him along faster. They see him...they're watching...walk faster...his thoughts were quickly becoming scattered. "Keep your head down," Gerard murmured softly, making sure not to show the panic he felt in case Mikey got scared too. Mikey looked at him in question. Gerard shook his head. 

Frank's eyes met Ray's and Ray just tightened his lips, watching Bert watch the two familiar figures walking by. Bert was about to yell at them when Frank put a hand on his shoulder. Bert's head whipped around. "What the fuck are you doing, Pansy?" Bert snapped. 

Gerard and Mikey were hiding in a shadowy area where they couldn't even see each other, watching the scene unravel. 

"Just leave them be, jesus christ," Frank said, earning a "cut it out!" motion from Ray from of the corner of his eye. 

Bert grabbed Frank by the shoulders and immediately delivered a blow to his cheek. With an involuntary gasp, Frank's head whipped to the side and Gerard found himself gasping at the sight. 

"Since when you do get to tell me what to do? Huh?" Bert yelled. 

Frank stayed silent, head still turned to where it was after Bert's punch.

Bert's fist flew up again and Frank flinched. "Never!" he yelled, his hands up to protect his face.

"That's what I fucking thought, fuckin' Pansy," Bert said, his voice low again. "God, just go home if you're gonna be such a fucking buzzkill."

Gerard and Mikey ran home. 

...

"What was that?" Mikey asked when they were laying in their separate twin beds. 

Gerard opened his eyes, looking at Mikey even though it was pitch black in their bedroom. "Don't worry about it," he said. He heard Mikey turning around to face him. 

"Why can't you tell me?" Mikey asked. "I'm thirteen, Gee. I can handle it." 

Gerard chuckled softly, too tired to laugh properly. "That was just some of the guys that go to my school. They're in like, a gang, I guess you could say. They write 'LeATHERMOUTH' and like, 'Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge' on everything at school."

"Even when the teachers are watching?" Mikey asked in disbelief. He yawned.

"Even when the teachers are watching," Gerard confirmed. Gerard turned around, untangling his legs from the comforter to look at Mikey too. "Go to sleep." 

Mikey replied with a grunt, seconds later only his soft snores filling the room. 

Gerard sat up in bed, adjusting his pillows to his upright position, and turned on the lamp beside him. He slid a drawer out from the nightstand beside him, watching Mikey to make sure the soft grinding sound wouldn't wake him. Gerard took the crackling brown leather journal from the drawer, taking a pen out too. He stared at the book in front of him, his fingers traced the etched-in vandalism reading 'THREE CHEERS FOR SWEET REVENGE XO FRNK'


	2. Try That Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all what the fUCK 
> 
> this already has 35 hits and 5 kudos and I posted it y e s t e r d a y 
> 
> thank you so much??? 
> 
> if you lovely doods wanna follow me on tumblr, it's justiceeforbarb. if i get a lot of followers from here i'll post updates and shit about this fic (if it gets big) but i literally have 2 followers on tumblr rn lmao
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading, if you have any questions at all feel free to ask in the comments or whatever, I'll do my best to answer unless it has something to do with the plot development :^) 
> 
> !!!!! comment and tell me if you want implied smut or want detailed scenarios. majority rules. if no one comments then i'll do implied 
> 
> much love,  
> mikayla

"Sorry..." Gerard said, books tight against his chest. "Oh, my bad, sorry- oof!" A student's shoulder hit Gerard's, and upon impact Gerard released his grip on his books. They clattered to floor, no doubt resulting in creased papers he'd spent the night flattening. As if the situation couldn't get any worse, the bell rang.

He was late. 

"Fuck," Gerard whispered under his breath. He got on his knees and began to inspect the folded pages. I'm already late, Gerard thought, might as well take my time now. 

Or at least he thought he'd take his time. It wasn't until he saw them round the corner that he immediately started to speed up the gathering process, ignoring his fingers that were begging to scrub down the creases until they weren't visible. He just couldn't seem to get the books together and into his backpack quick enough. Gerard heard their footsteps stop, and he looked in front of himself to see a formation of Doc Martens and frayed Converse all around him. 

"Drop something?" Bert asked. He was staring down at Gerard, but of course he didn't know Gerard's name.

No one did. 

Frank stared at Bert from across the kneeling boy. He really didn't want to do this right now...

The boy stayed silent, his breaths laboured as he avoided eye contact. Bert looked around the circle with his stupid fucking smile, waiting until he had everyone's attention before he started to lift his foot. Gerard wasn't watching, he couldn't have known what Bert was up to. Frank shut his eyes when Bert's foot cracked down, making a loud...scuff noise? 

Frank opened his eyes the second the boy ran out of the circle, hands up to create a plow out of the formation. Frank's eyes caught Gerard's, both of them wild with the adrenaline from one another's encounter. Bert stared after him, eyes wide in disbelief that for once he didn't break someone's hand when he wanted to. Everyone of the boys was staring at one another in silence until Frank couldn't hold it back any longer. He began to laugh, hysteric gasps coming from him until slowly all the boys began to laugh with the same intensity. Bert pouted, punching Frank in the arm with a laugh and walking off. 

"Kid's got guts," Bert added as he walked out of the school, lighting a cigarette. The receptionist just watched the boys file out. 

...

Gerard sat outside when lunch time came around, words flowing out of his pen as fast as he could get them out while still being legible. He was still paranoid from what happened this morning, but when he explained to the teacher why he was late he wasn't penalized. Gerard said he had a run-in with Bert McCracken. That was all the teacher needed to hear.

Frank stared out the window of the school, his eyes concentrated on the patio where lots of people had migrated to. He chewed thoughtfully on a french fry, eyebrows furrowed.

Bert noticed Frank's absence from the conversation and looked around the cafeteria for a sign of what had Frank thinking so hard. Bert finally traced Frank's eyes to the patio, where a boy writing furiously in a brown journal sat, distanced from the others out there. Bert looked back at Frank, then to the patio, an evil smile twisting onto his face. 

"Pansy...checkin' out the eye candy that disguises itself as bait with a book of poems, huh?" Bert asked. 

Frank's gaze lowered. "Shut up Bert," he said. "You're so condescending. Why are you like that?" 

Bert stayed silent, lips tight. "I have no idea what that means," he finally said. Bert's palms flattened onto the table as he stood up. "But I do know that I'm starving." With that, Frank's fries were stolen by Bert, and he still could only think about the boy and his journal. The journal looked familiar to Frank, but brown leather journals were extremely common... 

Frank's heart dropped when he noticed the boy was staring back. 

Gerard couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Who was this spooky little boy watching him so often? He didn't even realize they had history together until the teacher went to the back of the room, snapping in front of the boy's face to get him to stop staring. Gerard had turned around in his desk, only to see Frank was staring at him.

Frank.

He had learned his name from the snapping teacher, the one who kept telling Frank to focus. 

Gerard smiled to himself when he found out the name, his memory flashing photos of the vandalism on his journal. XO FRNK, Gerard thought, how romantic. 

Frank couldn't believe himself. No, he wasn't embarrassed that Gerard was watching out for him too. He wasn't even embarrassed that he (of all people) was caught drooling over some boy in class. Frank had seen the leather journal on Gerard's desk, and he saw his own trademarks on it. He'd given himself away when he really wanted to remain a mystery, a dark fantasy for Gerard to be aware of, but not too aware. Frank wanted to introduce himself, say "hello, my name is Frank. Want to take a walk with me?" But now all Frank could imagine himself saying was "Hello! I'm Frank. I vandalized your personal property with my own name, minus a vowel. Also, I'm in the scariest clique in school. Let's take a walk." 

Gerard, as much as he wanted to deny it, was kind of obsessed with the way Frank watched him. But Frank probably wasn't even looking at Gerard. It was probably the really interesting map of the U.S behind Gerard that had caught Frank's attention in history, and most likely the shrubbery behind Gerard on the patio that afternoon that had Frank staring so carefully. 

 

...(drug use trigger)...

Frank was exiting the school, turning a book assigned by his English teacher over in his hands, when Bert approached him. Bert was cheerful and distracted, meaning Bert had either gotten fucked or got drugs. 

"Come to my car with me. Let's take a ride," Bert smiled, winking.

...

Bert sighed, unclenching his jaw and opening his eyes. Frank shivered as he watched the needle pull itself from Bert's arm. He watched as Bert pulled a fresh needle from a plastic bag. "Want some?" Bert asked, his voice already showing signs of being strung out.

Frank lowered his eyes, the tracks on his arms painful to stare at. He shook his head even though he could already feel the tight chest, the shivers, the sweat- everything that came from withdraws.

Bert rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You're starting that shit again? Just take some god damn heroin, Pansy. This one time won't hurt you."

"This one time?" Frank asked. "This isn't the first time you've said these types of things to me. I'm good. I don't want any."

Bert was about to argue when suddenly his gaze softened despite his eyes becoming hard and narrowed. He chuckled. "Is this about that new guy you've been obsessing over? Is that why you won't get high with me anymore? Because I don't write poetry?"

Frank wanted to argue but he couldn't. He looked away. "It hurts," Frank lied.

Bert rolled his eyes again. "Such a baby," he mumbled, untying the tourniquet from his arm. Veins bulged from his bruised arms, and it kind of grossed Frank out to look at Bert for too long. 

The vinyl cracked beneath Bert's shifting weight as he laid his head on the steering wheel. "Sing for me Frankie," he whispered. "It's starting to hit."

Frank thought for a moment before beginning to sing "Sex And Candy" by Marcy Playground. He was singing quietly, watching Bert rub his forehead slowly against the steering wheel, a faint smile on his face. He laughed. 

"What?" Frank asked.

Bert's hand ran up down Frank's forearm, goosebumps raising because Bert's hands were so cold. "This is good shit," Bert said. "You're missing out." he added, his hand slowly rubbing Frank's inner thigh. Frank immediately opened the car door, but when he tried to leave Bert just tightened his grip on his Frank's arm. "Where the fuck are you going? You can't leave me alone like this..." Bert whimpered. 

"No," Frank said softly. "Bert no, we're not doing this today." 

"It's because I don't write poetry," he mumbled. "Fucking poets...they get everything just because they string some sweet nothings together and let the person reading it try and figure out what they're saying. Poets are lazy, you know." 

"And junkies aren't?" Frank asked, slamming the car door closed.


	3. Heavy Lifting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: Heavy Lifting by The Trouble With Templeton  
> the popularity of this fic is ridiculous!! i can't believe i posted this two days ago and it already has so many reads and a whole lot of kudos. thank you so much :,)  
> with love,  
> mikayla

"You can't just do that!" Mikey said, extending outstretched fingers to the television. Gerard chuckled.

"Bill Clinton fucking sucks," Mikey mumbled. "He doesn't even know what he's talking about."

Gerard turned off the television on that note, smacking his brother on the back of his skull. Mikey grimaced and made a whiny noise. "Why?" he asked. "Don't say 'fuck'," Gerard said, and stood up. "Let's go to bed."

Frank sat on the curb, his fingers shaking as he tried to balance a cigarette between his fore and middle fingers. His cheek was bleeding, cut open from Bert's ring that he wore tonight. His face was already sore from the blow he took on Friday. From the blow he took to defend, and possibly save Gerard. He was feeling pathetic and wimpy, like the human punching bag he was.

"Gerard, come on, let me stay up! Sorry for cussing!" Mikey snapped. Gerard rolled his eyes. "No, go to bed, now," he ordered. Sometimes, to Gerard, he and Mikey were equals when it came to maturity, but it was times like these that even Gerard wondered why thirteen year-olds had to be so annoying.

Mikey sighed and stomped upstairs, leaving Gerard downstairs by himself. 

Frank was starting to feel worse, and he was losing sight in his right eye due to the swelling. I can't go to a hospital, he thought, Bert would just make fun of me more. Frank stood up, but was quickly losing balance because he was practically half blind by now. 

Gerard put on his coat, jogging upstairs to remind Mikey of his late night walks that he always went on. Mikey grumbled a "whatever" and Gerard was out the door.

Frank stumbled, pressing a palm to the injury to subside the pain. 

Gerard stared at the ground as he walked. Frank wasn't paying attention.

Gerard stopped dead in his tracks when he saw him. His mouth became dry and the moisture went to his palms. "Are you hurt?" he asked to the clambering figure. 

Frank looked up (as best as he could with only one functioning eye) and felt the corners of his mouth turning up. Of course he had stumble upon Gerard's house. Why wouldn't he? "I'm okay," Frank said.

Gerard had never felt so nervous. 

Even Frank's voice was attractive, but despite the boy's beauty, Gerard seemed to find himself still searching the boy for any hidden weapons. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You look pretty beat up..." 

Frank chuckled, pressing his palm against his eye harder. "I'm fine," he assured. "What are you uh, what are you up to?" he asked, unwilling to let this conversation stay at that level of lameness. 

Gerard shrugged slightly, his breath manifesting into clouds before him. He seemed so nervous, and Frank couldn't decide if he should feel flattered or guilty. "I was just about to go for a run," Gerard replied. "I do that sometimes." 

Frank nodded. "Mind if it's just a walk tonight?" he asked. 

Gerard smiled. "Are you sure you can manage it?" he asked, pointing to his own eye.

Frank chuckled sheepishly. "I told you I'm fine." 

Gerard smiled, nodding his head towards the other side of the road. "Let's walk," he said. 

Frank had to take more steps than he wanted to to keep up with Gerard, but boy was it worth it.

"So, your eye?" Gerard said. "How'd that happen?" 

Frank shrugged, unsure of how to tell him that he'd been beaten in a fit of withdraw rage.

"Don't shrug," Gerard said, still smiling crookedly. "You know. You don't have to talk about it though." 

"How do you know me?" Frank asked. He knew exactly how Gerard knew him.

"Uh..." Gerard shrugged then, trying to figure out how to get out of this trap Frank's put him in. "We have history together, and the same lunch period. I've seen you around." Keep it casual, Gerard thought. Don't let him have this kind of effect on you. 

Frank nodded, shocked with a wave of dizziness as soon as he did. "Yeah, we do, don't we? I hate that class. The teacher hates me." 

Gerard could only think about the way Frank had stared at him as the teacher told him to sit up and pay attention. 

It gave him butterflies, the way Frank would look at him like he was really trying to understand what Gerard was trying to say, like he really cared. It would never occur to Gerard that he was one of the first people to treat Frank like wasn't scared of him. 

They walked in silence, and Gerard was sneaking glances at Frank whenever he could. Could it be possible that Frank was only walking with Gerard to lead him somewhere he shouldn't be? Probably not, right? Frank wouldn't do that. But then again, they'd only just met, how can Gerard be sure?

Frank had never felt more comfortable in his entire life. Sure, it was freezing and his eye was actually swollen shut by now, but Gerard was so cheerful, he seemed to warm up every piece of land he stepped on. Frank admired him so much, and it was becoming slightly obsessive. It was probably only for tonight, right? 

...

"Well, it's been fun, but we've circled back to my house," Gerard said, jabbing his thumb to the house behind him. Frank nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His raw knuckles scraped against the denim, making him cringe. "I'll see you tomorrow," Frank said, smiling. 

"Are you sure you'll be alright to walk home with that eye? It's starting to look pretty bad..." Gerard pointed out. 

Frank waved a hand. "Nah, it's fine. I've had worse," he said. He meant it to be a light-hearted comment, but Gerard looked kind of crushed. Gerard sighed. "Well, if you find yourself in the neighborhood tonight and in need of help you know where to find me," he chuckled. "Don't stay out too long. It's getting colder." Frank nodded, and watched Gerard as he went back into his house. 

He felt so guilty. Gerard didn't know Frank didn't have a choice in staying out in the cold. Where else could he go?


	4. Pretty When You Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: Pretty When You Cry by Lana Del Rey

Frank gripped onto his basket of fries as he sat down, eating them underneath the table so Bert wouldn't steal them again. He watched as Gerard's pen flew across pages, his other hand flipping the page when he needed it. It was impressive that he was able to multitask like that and still be able to write so furiously. Frank thought for a moment, then tossed the fries onto the table in front of Bert.

"Where you off to?" Bert asked.

Frank just aimed his eyes to the outdoors area, hoping Bert would get it and just fuck off.

But of course he wouldn't. It's Bert.

"What, the poet again? Are you serious?" Bert asked.

"You're vicious," Frank said with a faint smile. "He's cool. Just leave it."

Gerard flinched when Frank sat beside him, unsure if this still was an ongoing cruel prank. "What's up?" Gerard asked, casually sliding his journal underneath his pile of belongings beside him. Frank shrugged.

"You looked pretty focused over here, I figured I should come distract you," he said.

Gerard laughed. "Yeah, thanks, that means a lot."

"You can always count on me," Frank said, chuckling. "So, um, what are you writing about?"

Gerard immediately looked at his shoes, ashamed for some reason. "Nothing, it's garbage honestly."

Frank's eyebrows squished together and Gerard wanted to slap himself for putting that kind of look on Frank's face. It looked all wrong there.

"Well it can't be that bad. You've been working on it pretty hard from what I've seen," Frank said, face softening.

He wanted to slap himself for saying that. How more obvious could he make it? Frank might as well seat himself on Gerard's window sill, maybe have a bag of popcorn while he's at it, because he's already admitted to watching Gerard twice.

Gerard wouldn't make eye contact, but he smiled and blushed a little bit when Frank spoke those words. It gave Frank a boost to know Gerard didn't find it totally creepy.

...

Frank was standing outside the school waiting for Bert, trying to read the book he'd been assigned for English. It was The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. He had read it once before, and found it really terrible, but now he sort of found it only dark, a representation of raw and true feelings that Sylvia was unafraid to show. He liked it. 

Bert eventually did show, but Frank wasn't surprised to see him. He was surprised to see Gerard right beside Bert, books flush against his chest, staring at Bert with this dumb bubbly expression on his face. Frank probably looked so idiotic, standing there with his book still open, frozen in place. 

"Uh, Earth to Frank...?" Bert said, laughing. 

Gerard giggled. 

Giggled.

"Can I talk to you?" Frank asked suddenly. 

Bert nodded. Frank sighed, looking at Gerard. "Alone?" he added. 

"Oh! Yeah, sorry..." Gerard went and stood a few feet away. 

"I'm going kill you," Frank whispered. 

"For what? Making friends? Including him?" Bert shot back. He had this wild look in his eyes, but overall his face was so bleak of any emotion.

"Don't you pull that manipulative shit on me right now, Bert, please," Frank said, closing his eyes and exhaling a breath he was unaware he was holding. 

Bert rolled his eyes. "Look, you're the one who wanted to be friends with him-" 

"Yes! I did! I didn't want me and you to be friends with him!" Frank hissed. 

Bert stared at him with a "well, what do you want me to do?!" expression, and it made Frank so angry that he almost punched the guy. 

...

Everyone was quiet, but Bert and Gerard were just having the fucking times of their lives. Frank watched the two laughing at each other from the corner, taking swigs from a bottle of liquor. Ray was standing beside him, watching as the small one guzzled down the alcohol. 

"Take it easy," Ray said softly.

Frank sneered at him. 

"What's got you so worked up, Frankie?" Ray asked. He gently pried Frank's fingers off from the neck of the bottle, holding it firmly away from him. 

"Those two," Frank snapped. "Those two have me so worked up." 

Ray looked around. "Who, Bert and Gee?" he asked. 

"No, the other two people laughing at each other for no fuckin' reason," Frank mumbled. "I'm done. I'm going home." 

Ray sighed, grabbing Frank by the wrist and dragging him back. "What home? Whose couch are you sleeping on tonight?" he asked, keeping his voice low. 

Frank rolled his eyes. "Anyone's!" he yelled. He jerked his arm away, and stumbled away from their piercing stares. 

Everything was quiet, and Gerard didn't feel right about the way Frank had just yelled and walked off. "Is he okay?" Gerard whispered. 

"Who? Frank?" Bert asked. "Oh sure. He's probably drunk." 

Gerard smiled nervously. "Yeah..." 

Gerard watched as Frank crumbled onto the pavement, legs swinging up, hysteric laughter coming from him. Gerard sighed and went over to him. 

"What are you doing?" Gerard asked, standing over Frank. 

Frank smiled lazily. "Reading." 

Gerard glanced down at Frank's chest, and sure enough there was a book there, The Bell Jar. Gerard had read it only a million times; it was practically his favourite book. He sat down on the pavement beside Frank, taking the book off his chest. Frank groaned, grabbing for the stolen literature. 

Gerard held it out of reach, glaring. "Will you sit still long enough for me to read the rest of this chapter to you? You need to relax." 

Frank raised an eyebrow, but slowly lowered his arms to rest on his chest like a vampire would. 

"Okay, now listen up," Gerard began. 

Bert stood against the lamp post he and Gerard had previously been chatting against, watching his not-yet-corrupted companion read a fucking book to Pansy. He felt so much anger within him beginning to bubble up, his feelings shook up and ready to explode like an irresponsibly shaken soda. He sniffed, going to his car and pulling out the plastic bag that contained Frank's vice. He shook the bag the way an owner would shake a bag of dog treats, and Frank lifted his head at the sound. 

"What's that?" Frank yelled from his place on the pavement. 

"What do you think it is?" Bert replied. He smiled to himself, pulling his belt from the belt loops. He glanced up at Ray, who was staring at Bert with a look of disapproval. 

"What?" Bert asked. 

"You're ruining that boy," Ray replied. 

"No," Bert said, smiling. "He's ruining himself."


	5. Sweet as Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is going to give Bert a chance to open up some and show how his life ties in with how he treats other people/treats himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: Cherry Wine by Hozier  
> boy am i sorry that i haven't updated in like, 10 years :)))  
> i haven't really felt like writing and i also haven't had much inspiration, but this chapter is kind of here just to further drive the plot and show how frank and gerard are feelin and stuff. thanks for being patient luv u 
> 
> with love,  
> mikayla

Frank was silent. 

"Frank..." Gerard said. They were still seated on the pavement a few feet away from Bert, who was injecting heroin. 

Frank stared, sweat seeping from his pores in an attempt to control himself. Bert had good stuff, he said so himself. Frank was having such a tough time with this heroin thing. "Maybe I can just shoot some tonight," Frank murmured. "To tie me over." 

Gerard's heart beat quickened at these words. He didn't want to watch Frank do that. He didn't even like needles, much less needles injecting drugs into Frank's body. "Uh," Gerard said suddenly. "M-maybe not...just..stay here." 

Frank was already standing up, and Gerard got on his knees and off the ground so quick, a hole ripped into the knee of his jeans. He grabbed Frank's arm, then slid his hand down his forearm, into Frank's hand. The smaller boy was paling when he turned around to look at Gerard, a look of confusion on his face. "Just stay here," Gerard whispered. His eyes flickered to Bert, who had a hard expression on his face. Gerard licked his lips, inhaling and looking back to Frank. 

"I'll read to you some more," Gerard said, giving Frank's hand a gentle squeeze. 

Everything was silent, but Frank's mind was so loud. He was torn between wanting to feel good and wanting to feel even better. 

Heroin was only to feel good though. Gerard's voice expressing Sylvia's pain was even better. Frank nodded slightly, and he wasn't even sure if Gerard had seen it, but the way Gee's eyes lit up showed that he saw it. That he appreciated it. 

They held hands as they sat down, Gerard's breaths coming quick in puffs. He flipped to the page, having difficulty with only one hand. Frank noticed Gerard couldn't open the book easily and keep it open, so he used his free hand to weight the other pages that had already been read down. Gerard smiled at him for a moment, then began reading. 

Ray clapped a hand on Bert's shoulder, making Bert flinch. "Looks like he's not ruining anything but your night," Ray said, smiling. 

Bert rolled Ray's hand off his shoulder, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I wonder if Gerard wants some," Bert said. 

Ray laughed heartily. "Go home, Bert." he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "No one wants your shit. In fact we're all just about to puke from it." 

Bert smiled sarcastically. 

Gerard finished the chapter, closing the book and looking at Frank. "It's late," he said, his voice rough. "I should get home." 

Frank felt his heart drop. He wasn't ready for him to leave yet. Gerard noticed. 

"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asked. 

Frank shook his head, ashamed. 

"Are you sure? It's late..." Gerard repeated. 

"I don't have a home," Frank said so quietly that Gerard actually spoke over him before realizing Frank had even said something.

"What?" Gerard asked, standing up. 

"I...I don't have a home," Frank said, slightly louder. 

Did I hear him right? Gerard thought. Did he just say he didn't have a home?

"Frank..." Gerard said, unsure of how to go about this. He squatted in front of the smaller boy, holding his hands

Frank stared at him, feeling embarrassed and lame and like such a fucking buzz kill. 

Gerard sighed. "You're coming home with me." 

"No! No, it's fine, Gerard, please..." Frank begged, dragging out his own unintentional pity party. "You don't need to do that." 

Gerard helped him off the ground, staring into the boy's teary eyes. "I want to," he said softly, squeezing Frank's hand. "It's fine."

...

Bert lay on his bed, watching the lava lamp cast groovy shadows on his ceiling. His eyes were closed, tired and sore almost. He was coming down, and it hurt like hell. He wanted to occupy himself with something, but he wasn't exactly sure what. He could hear his father snoring loudly in the room next door, the useless man probably so worn out from doing absolutely nothing. Bert cracked open his door, peeking out at the matted carpet and rotted wallpaper surrounding him. The house smelled like mold and cigarettes, a familiar and relaxing scent Bert had adapted to. When his mother was around, it smelled like soap and mint in every room- every room but Bert's. Bert's room smelled like incense, the cherry kind. He always requested it from her weekly flea market trips, and he was always greeted with 2 or 3 packs of it every Sunday. He still kept the last couple of packs in a drawer, afraid to burn it because his father would probably try to flush it down the toilet or something. 

Bert sighed, rubbing his eyes. He retreated back into his room, turning on a lamp that sat atop a cheap wooden desk. Bert had carved a lot of poetry and random words or phrases into it, and he read over it now. His eyes moved over words that Frank had carved into the desk, his head aching at the thought of him, of that night. It was only about a year ago, and they had been getting high the entire day. It was a good high too; marijuana didn't effect Bert as badly as heroin or coke did. Frank wouldn't stop smiling, and he was laying across the desk when Bert had tossed a closed switchblade at him. Frank had carved something with an impressive amount of focus for someone as high as he was. When Frank left, Bert looked at whatever Frank had left for him. It said "LUNACY FRINGE." The phrase had stuck with him since. 

Bert still had no idea what it meant, but he liked Frank's twist on "Lunatic Fringe." 

He sighed, and pulled open a drawer. 1 inch, circular pans all slid to the front of the drawer, and Bert took one out, opening the compact and swirling his pinkie around the pigment. He smeared red eyeshadow across his eyelid, dragging it out unevenly on either side. Once he was satisfied, he sat back and stared at himself for a moment. He took in his reflection, his blotchy skin, his long hair. He looked at his bare chest, the curve of his shoulders. His eyes wanted to linger on his arms, specifically the area where his shoulder bicep became his forearm, but he wouldn't let them. He looked away almost as soon as he looked there, and sighed at himself in the mirror. 

He stood up, livid for some reason. He glanced at the clock, the time reading 5:59 a.m. He would be getting ready for school in 1 minute, normally. But tonight hadn't been normal. 

He sniffled, plucking up a shirt off the floor of his bedroom and sliding onto his thin form. He took some ripped up jeans from his closet and slipped his feet into Converse. He was ready, but something felt off. Bert searched his bedroom for what could possibly be missing, and he gulped as his eyes lingered on the drawer that harbored his stash of cherry incense. He could light it right now and just leave, return to a room flavoured like tree-shaped car fragrances. 

But then he heard his father's door open. 

... 4 hours earlier...

Gerard flipped on the light switch, and glanced at Frank. He looked so worn out all of a sudden. "Do you want to take a shower?" Gerard whispered. Frank's expression brightened and he nodded sheepishly. Gerard smiled softly, nodding his head towards the bathroom. Frank followed him, and sat on the toilet seat as Gerard moved some things around. He took fluffy, clean-looking towels out of a cupboard, and placed it in Frank's hands.

"Take as long as you need, okay? I'll be right outside in the living room. Are you hungry?" Gerard asked. 

Frank nodded again. 

"I'll make some food," Gerard said, heading towards the door. "I'll bring some pajamas in here. Don't freak out if I come in," he added before leaving. 

Frank finally exhaled shakily, eyes weeping. He shoved his face into the towel Gerard had placed his hands, smelling the clean fabric. He turned on the water, unyielding to get out of his clothes and into the steaming water. No shower had ever felt so good. 

Gerard heard the water running as he came downstairs with some pj choices for Frank. He opened the door, and was surprised to hear Frank singing. 

"Jane says...I'm done with Sergio..." he sang, his voice quiet. 

Gerard smiled to himself and placed the clothes on the counter beside the towel.


	6. Somebody Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: Somebody Else by The 1975

"Do you think it matters? Whether you actually read the book or not?" Frank asked, tapping the cover of Bert's novel with his index finger. 

Bert shrugged slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "They'll test us on anything they can," he replied. He exhaled. "The education system is fucked beyond repair." 

Frank smiled softly. "I can't argue with that." 

Bert smiled at him, stubbing out his cigarette and sighing. "So, how was your night at Gerard's?" he asked. He wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He was curious, and he also liked the way Frank squirmed whenever Bert brought Gerard up. He was so hot for Gerard, it wasn't even funny. 

"It was fine. He's really nice," Frank said. "I like him a lot." 

Bert raised an eyebrow. "Do you? Are you guys gonna be like, a thing now?" 

He was acting like he didn't care, but his heart dropped at the thought of Frank wanting anyone else but himself. 

"Nah, probably not," Frank answered, voice lowered. 

Bert wanted to sigh from relief, but Frank seemed genuinely upset. He rolled his eyes. 

"It'll work out," was all Bert said. He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you." 

Frank looked confused, but nodded anyways. Bert wanted to take it back and just sit his dumb ass down beside him, but he'd already said he had to go...

He began to trudge away from Frank, and he let out a shaky breath so loud he almost didn't hear the small one's reply.

"See you..." 

...

Bert lay on his bed, once again mesmerized by the shadowy bubbles being cast on his ceiling. His dad wasn't home, probably at a bar, so that gave Bert time to get high by himself. He wished Frank were there so he'd have someone to touch, someone to look at and study, but Frank was too busy, probably drooling over Gerard somewhere. Probably thinking about touching him and studying him. It hurt Bert far too much to think about that any longer. Bert's mind had the tendency to wander when he was high, and it was the worst part of coming down, the way he would lose creativity by the minute. He could imagine all kinds of creatures and their legacies, but tonight he could only see Frank and Gerard together. Out of all the things he could be imagining, the only thing behind his eyelids was Frank.

This happened often, but it wasn't as intense as these thoughts were. Bert just couldn't get them out of his mind, and it wasn't until his phone rang that he actually stopped thinking about how much he wished he could stop thinking at all. He flipped open the device, eyes tearing up at the sight of Frank's number flashing on the screen. 

"Hello?" he answered. 

"Hey, Bert, are you alright?" Frank asked. His voice was soft like it always was.

Bert was silent for a moment. "Yeah," he whispered. 

"Are you high?" Frank asked. He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything. He was emotionless when he said that, and that made Bert feel even worse.

Bert sniffled, placing his fingertips on his eyelids and rubbing small circles. "A little," he murmured. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Frank replied. "I can't stop you from doing that stuff if you dont want to." 

"You sound mad," Bert said, placing the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He stood up and went to the fridge, pouring some Dr. Pepper into a cup. For some reason, he could only imagine himself crushing the phone as it was crunched between his ear and shoulder. 

"I'm not. Do you want to hang out tonight?" Frank asked. 

This caught Bert off gaurd. Frank never wanted to just "hang out." 

"Um," Bert said, looking around his house. There were garbage bags leaking some kind of gross fluid stacked on one another beside a trash can, food contianers and empty beer bottles carelessly left here and there. "Not at my place." 

Frank chuckled. "How about mine?" He asked. 

Bert laughed. "Which park do you inhabit these days, Pansy?"

...

Gerard sat off by himself, breathing heavily as he focused on his drawing. He was creating a new character, but it just wasn't working out the way he wanted. Her waist was too small, breasts too big. She was far too unnatural, but he couldn't seem to morph his style into the classic-comic style. He had a hard time accepting the way he drew his characters. They were unlike any characters he'd ever read about, and he was insecure about that. What if one day he tried to publish a comic, and they wouldn't allow it because it wasn't good enough? 

...suicide mention trigger...

Gerard sighed, looking around the corner at Mikey. He was peeking over a dungeon master's guide, eyebrows raised in an expression that seemed to scream "ha, bad move!" Gerard chuckled to himself, thinking of how mischevious his brother was. He hadn't always been so in control, so aware. Gerard thought of the funeral, thought of how Mikey didn't come back after he said he'd be in the bathroom. Gerard thought of all the blood, all the pain Mikey had been in because of their parents' deaths. 

Mikey never wore short sleeves after that.

He sighed, opening his eyes. The pen he had been involuntarily pressing against page had now created a black stain on the bottom right corner. Gerard inhaled sharply, ripping the page from its binding. 

"Are you alright?" someone asked from behind him.

Gerard flinched, craning his neck to see who had spoken to him. Frank appeared from around the corner.

"Yeah," Gerard said, letting out a breath. "You scared me."

Frank smiled. "I'm sorry. The intention was good." 

Gerard smiled that crooked smile of his, sending Frank's heart into overdrive. "What are you doing here?" Gerard asked gingerly. 

"I uh, saw you walk in. Bert and I were hanging out nearby," Frank added that last part so Gerard wouldn't think he was a total creep. 

"Oh," Gerard said lightly. "Where is he?" He asked.

Frank faltered for a moment. "Uh, he went back home. He was tired or something," Frank lied. Bert just wanted to get high again since he was coming down when they met up.

Gerard wasn't convinced, in fact, he was just confused as to why Frank was even here. This wasn't his scene. Shouldn't he be at some heavy metal show, or something? It kind of pissed Gerard off, the way Frank had just intruded on his comfortable Friday evening. He said nothing.

Frank felt al uncomfortable. He had never been shown signs of being unwanted -not like this. Gerard wasn't even the same person, but Frank could just be paranoid. Bert always said that Frank was never in his right mind when he was afraid or sad or angry...

"Should I go?" Frank blurted out.

Gerard shrugged slightly, his silence ringing in Frank's ears. He realized that he had been holding his hands in tight fists, and shook them out. His fingers were cold, probably from lack of blood circulation. He looked around, eyes beginning go water. He blinked ferociously to try and clear them, but he only felt more nervous. Frank wanted to go, but he couldn't.

"Have I done something?" He whimpered.

Gerard sighed, slapping his pen down on his paper. It made Frank flinch, and Gerard's expression softened at the small one. He stared, looking unimpressed and displeased. 

"No," he finally said, and returned to his project. 

Frank wanted to let it go, so he did. He left the store, heaving slightly because he couldn't seem to retain air. He felt like a balloon with a tiny puncture, letting out air whenever he tried to keep it in. It hurt. His lips were becoming numb because of the cold, and his hands were frozen in their position because the blood was rushing to his face instead of his fingers. 

...

"He wouldn't talk to me," Frank croaked. "He just seemed so angry."

Bert slid his hand back and forth across Frank's back, trying to console him.

"I don't understand. I haven't done anything to him," Frank continued to whine on and on about Gerard, and Bert was honestly growing tired of hearing about it. 

"Do you wanna get high?" Bert asked suddenly. 

Frank sniffled, wiping his eyes. He shook his head, but he really wouldn't mind it right now. 

Bert nodded, letting go of the drugs in question. Frank secretly hoped he would've pushed the subject, made him feel like there was no other choice. Should he be grateful or disappointed? 

...

"Mikey, have you taken your medication?" Gerard asked. He was leaning backwards trying to get a good look at his brother, who was gobbling down some waffles. 

"No, could you bring it to me?" Mikey asked. 

Gerard took out the orange pill bottle labeled Celexa, and shook a pill out. "You have a drink?" Gerard asked.

"Yep," Mikey responded.

Gerard sighed, staring at the pill in his palm. He wished he didn't have to check to see if they were all there, or if one too many was missing every night. It didn't seem right that he should have to know the exact amount of pills in his little brother's pill bottles. 

Gerard sat down, holding the pill out for Mikey to take. 

"Thanks," Mikey said, dropping the pill onto his tongue and downing the rest of his water. He swallowed and let out a big sigh. 

"I'm proud of you," Gerard said softly. 

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Not the sad stuff, Gee."

Gerard chuckled. "I'm serious though. You've been doing so well." 

Mikey smiled and grabbed his backpack, swinging it onto his shoulders. "Let's get outta here."


	7. I Want It All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title credit: I Want It All by Arctic Monkeys  
> y'all. 
> 
> I don't even know what to say.
> 
> with love,  
> Mikayla

Frank lit another candle, resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Christ, Frankie, could you blow one of those out? Smells like a fuckin'...I don't know," Bert snapped, his words coming from one side of his mouth due the cigarette in the other side. He was flipping through a book, his arms covered by torn up thermals. "Just blow one out."

Frank's eyebrows scrunched together and he peeked at Bert from the corner of his eye. He stubbornly blew one of the cherry scented ones out, the smoke masking every other scent. He stood up, sighing. He picked up a slinky, weighing it back in forth in his hands. He sighed again. 

Bert yanked his cigarette out of his mouth, slamming the book closed. "Do you ever do anything but pout? It's been like, three days," he said. 

Frank rolled his eyes. "You don't get it," he mumbled. "He doesn't ignore you." 

"He doesn't talk to me either way," Bert snapped, locking the cigarette between his teeth. "And you don't see me complaining."

Frank scoffed. "He has nothing to gain from you anyways." 

"And he does with you?" Bert shot back. 

Frank was silent. 

"Look, he'll talk when he's ready. In the meantime, fucking relax." Bert said, opening his book and flipping through the pages. 

Frank nodded even though Bert wasn't looking anymore. He sat down in front of Bert, crossing his legs. "You got any China White?" he asked. 

Bert gave Frank a look as he inhaled, eyes squeezing slightly shut. He stared at Frank, exhaling, his cigarette locked between his middle and index knuckles. "No," he finally said, his gaze slipping down to the page in front of him. "No," he repeated, slightly quieter.

"I'm not stupid, I saw you with some just yesterday," Frank whined. 

Bert gave him a warning look. "No," he snapped.

Frank pushed his bottom lip out, sighing in defeat. "What's your problem?" he asked. 

"My problem is that you're using up all my shit and throwing yourself one hell of a pity party while doing so," Bert said. He tossed the book onto the floor, standing up. He traveled throughout his house, not really needing anything but just wanting to be away from Frank. The little one had been so attached lately, and Bert knew exactly why.

Frank sat on Bert's bed. He wasn't quite sure what to think of his friend's sudden outbursts, but he was certain it had to do with himself. He was being clingy; this he knew. And Frank knew Bert knew why. Frank just wanted to get high, just wanted something to ease some of the tension. He was suddenly pissed, and stood up, unsure of what to do now that Bert's room was at his disposal. He decided to see if Bert really was being serious when he said he didn't have any drugs. Of course he didn't exactly say that, but there were bigger problems to be solved, Frank thought.

Frank thought for a moment, trying to remember any time where Bert fished a bag of syringes and pills from a secret compartment or area. He thought and thought, then he remembered Bert's desk. He whipped around to look at the carved up structure, and immediately began pulling drawers open, listening for the crinkling and looking for the items. His eyes were moving quickly over the various things shoved into the drawers, and as he was beginning to give up, he caught a glimpse of the familiar plastic bag. It was shoved underneath an old leather-bound book, and while most people would take that as a sign of the drugs not wanting to be found, Frank could only focus on how ecstatic he was to have them in possession.

He looked around the room and almost gave himself a heart attack when he saw Bert, leaning against the door frame. His arms were folded across his chest, and he had a passive expression on his face. The expression remained that way even as Bert's hand cracked against Frank's cheek harshly. Frank was on the ground upon impact, clutching the bag of pills against his chest.

"What did I say?" Bert asked, voice quiet.

Frank just blinked tears out of his eyes in response, chin quivering.

"Frank? What did I say?" he repeated.

"'No'," Frank replied shakily. "You said 'no'."

Bert snatched the bag full of blue tablets out of Frank's weak grasp. "Give me these," he said. "Don't ever try this shit again. You don't need it."

Frank sat up, wiping his eyes. "And you do?" he asked, voice small.

Bert just sighed. "We're going to bed."

"Fine," Frank said, standing and laying down on Bert's bed, pulling the blankets over his shoulder. 

"Frank," Bert said. 

No response. 

"Frank," Bert said again, eyes welling up with tears. He had no idea why he was getting emotional, but suddenly he just wished Frank would acknowledge him or say goodnight or something. Anything. 

...

"Gee," Mikey said, sounding quizzical. 

"Yes?" Gerard responded, closing his journal. 

"What ever happened to that freaky kid you were hanging out with?"

Gerard looked at Mikey. "Who? Frank?" he asked. 

"Mhm," he says, flipping a page of his book. 

"I got mad at him, I don't know," Gerard mumbled, feeling weirdly defensive. He still wasn't sure why he was so pissed off, but he knew he couldn't really take it back. And Frank was bad for him anyway, right?

"Well, you drew him a lot so I thought you maybe liked him," Mikey said. He was silent for a moment, then put his book down, looking over to Gerard. "Don't you?" he asked.

Gerard rolled his eyes, turning red. "God, can you shut up? Read you book."

"You did," Mikey teased, sitting up on his elbow like a girl would as she gossiped.

"Okay, I was definitely interested in him," Gerard admitted. "Happy?"

Mikey grinned, but it faded. "Wait, so when are you gonna apologize for being rude?" he asked.

"God, can you just mind your own business?" Gerard yanked a pillow off his bed and threw it at Mikey, laughing.

Mikey threw it back. "Just apologize tomorrow. And ask him to get food later. Goodnight."

_

Gerard sighed, hugging his journal to his chest. He stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, staring at Frank, who was staring at the ceiling as Bert harassed him. He walked over to him briskly, staring into Frank's eyes as they followed him. The contact was intense.

"Can you come outside?" he asked Frank, who was staring at Gerard both angrily and quizzically.

Frank hesitated, then stood. "Sure."

Outside, the two sat beside each other on the short brick wall that limited their outside lunch area.

"So," Gerard began. "I'm sorry for how I acted at the store the other night."

"Yeah, that was odd. What happened?" Frank asked, looking at the pale boy beside him.

"I was just feeling on edge I guess, I don't know. I felt interrupted," Gerard told him. Now that he had said it, he felt so stupid for getting to offended over that. Why couldn't he just be a decent person and interact politely?, he wondered.

"Oh," Frank said. "I understand, I guess. You could've just said I was interrupting something."

"I know and I'm sorry I didn't. I was just worked up from something I guess," Gerard said, sighing. "Are we good now though?"

"I guess," Frank said, smiling.

"Do you want to get something to eat later?" Gerard asked, trying to sound cool but really just sounding terrified. Was it a date? Would Frank want to go to some beaten-up bar?

Frank looked at him for a second, confused. "Wait..." he said. Then once all the words came together, he felt embarrassed for having hesitated. "Yeah, I would."

Gerard smiled and stood, the sleeves of his ripped sweater falling down his fingers, which were wrapped around the spine of his journal. "We'll talk more about it in history. See you later, Frank."

He felt like a girl, feeling as giggly and soft as he did.

Frank chuckled to himself, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.


	8. AN OVERDUE APOLOGY OMG

YALL I'VE BEEN SLACKING AND I'M SORRY 

basically here's what happened: 

-school  
-writer's block  
-mental instability   
-no energy ever 

and yeah that's why i haven't been writing, BUT I think i'm gonna start this shit up again bc it's gotten so much love and it makes me happy, so thank you all for waiting patiently!! 

follow me on instagram, i'm cute and don't do much:   
@beep.beep.mikayla 

love y'all, thanks again


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